Being gay at Ole Miss is not always smooth sailing. That is unsurprising given the prevalence of bigotry and the fact we live in one of the most staunchly conservative states in the union. As the son of Christian missionaries, my sexuality has always been a point of contention – but that internal conflict resurfaced in college.
But what I have found intriguing, in the most fearful way possible, is just how far behind progress this university is in accepting queer students. While I have definitely enjoyed my sixish weeks here, I have also experienced discrimination and outright hatred — just because I am not a masculine man who likes women.
If I had a nickel for every time I was called the f-slur, given a side-eye or weird look by a pledge or received a snarky comment, I could probably afford rent in Oxford. But jokes aside, vitriol against the LGBTQ+ community runs rampant in our cozy college town, from Friday nights at the bars and dinosaur denying religious extremists in the Circle to the infamously raucous frat parties.
Harassment like this seems to spike on game days at the Grove. After all, drunk words are sober thoughts, and it is no secret most Rebels tailgating are three High Noons deep and tipsier than one of the Grove squirrels on espresso.
Thankfully, I am pretty thick-skinned, so the harassment I face does not dig deep. What I am more worried about is the way this culture of hatred impacts students who are struggling silently with their sexuality and stifles progress for representation and acceptance.
PSA: There are not fewer queer students at Ole Miss than at any of the gay liberal arts schools. There are fewer openly queer students. The continued use of more extreme insults (like the f-slur) and even more tame descriptors like “gay” to describe something negative, forces closeted queer people to shut the door and lock it from the inside.
In an environment that ostracizes identities that are different, why would anyone want to openly embrace that identity?
When applying to Ole Miss, I considered it as a safety school, the last resort and the place I would actually attend only if I did not receive adequate scholarships or need-based aid from the elite (but socially liberal) universities I eagerly applied to. One instance that almost dissuaded me from choosing Ole Miss was after I posted my pictures on the Class of 2024 Instagram page. Comments began to pile up, mostly from burner accounts but many from prospective students criticizing me, how I looked and more specifically, my queerness.
After days of second-guessing myself and jotting down countless pros and cons lists, I picked the University of Mississippi – mainly for the scholarships but also because I knew quite a few people attending.
Ultimately, I think I made the right choice. I will not sugarcoat it. Ole Miss has got a long way to go to support LGBTQ+ students. Right now, it is hard to be who I am, especially in the face of backlash, but the one thing I have to remember is that my existence is revolutionary in itself.
For every queer student at our school, whether you are out or not, know that it will be hard, but at the end of the day, it is worth it. Being visible and proud is making life here safer, more fun and more inclusive for the next class and generation of Ole Miss students. It will get better.
Kadin Collier is a freshman Arabic and international studies double major from Tokyo.Editor’s Note: The Lavender Letters is a collection of open letters written by members of Ole Miss’ queer community highlighting the many joys and hardships that come with being a member of the LGBTQ+ community in the South — and in particular on this campus. If you are interested in writing a letter, email thedmopinion@gmail.com.
